Bit Of A Prick Poem by Charles Malcolm

I used to laugh
when the girls gave me Indian burns
and dug their nails into my flesh
on the playgrounds.

I used to look away
when they would lift their shirts
finally
after hours of pressure.

I used to smile
when they spat in my face
hurled ashtrays at me
pushed me down metal staircases.

I still laugh, look away, and smile
when they do whatever it is
that they do.

I yearn for their attempts.

I've just always been better
at hurting myself
than they have.